


Children of War

by FlamingKookie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingKookie/pseuds/FlamingKookie
Summary: Kim Jongin, Kim Jongdae, and Zhang Yixing enlist to help the war effort and stop the Nazi Regime despite knowing the hurdles they would have to overcome just to be allowed to fight. As the pressure builds they find they rely on each other more and more until they can't stand to be apart and pledge to return home together once the war is won.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is going to be a piece of Historical Fiction. While it is based on true historical events and a very real conflict, there will be some changes made. Most of these changes will be for plot and character involvement but I will be keeping as accurate as I can concerning the timeline, technology, tactics, etc. I want to try ensure that I properly represent the discrimination, the horror, and the brutality of this war while adding a few plot points to allow a bit more flow to the overall narrative. I hope you all will enjoy this piece although it may take some time for me to finish it. Thank you for the support!
> 
> Also note that while plot points and particular characters may be fictional, many of the situations, battles, and interactions will be as historically accurate as possible. That will include things that may not have been expressed in many, if any, classrooms that my research will have shown me. Please look forward to the work.

_Gunfire whizzed by as Jongin ran towards the foxhole. Dirt spattered up from a round tearing the earth just a few feet in front of him and Jongin spat the dirt from his mouth. The weight of his M1 Garand only seemed to increase the longer he ran. Everything hurt but he ignored it. When he finally reached the foxhole he was about to jump in when there was a loud PING and impact with the back of his head that sent Jongin crashing into it with a loud grunt. His ears rang from the loud metallic clang and he looked up to see Yixing quickly wrapping a man’s leg with a tourniquet and then injected him with a dose of morphine. The man’s leg had been blown off. Likely a grenade._

_“You alright?!” Yixing called out over the gunfire. If the snow wasn’t coated in sprays of dark blood and mixed with burnt earth and debris from grenades and rocket fire. Jongin, with his head well below the lip of the foxhole, removed his helmet and looked at the back. Wedged into the back of it was a smoldering round from a German Gewehr 43 rifle. Jongin nodded quickly as he hurried to put the helmet back on his head. His face was covered in dirt and grime and his hair stuck to his forehead._

_“Y-yeah!” Jongin called out to Yixing and then felt someone jump into the foxhole next to him. The familiar uniform and relentless training kept Jongin from firing in the direction of the sudden movement. Jongdae was covered in ammo belts and quickly began to pass out the fresh ammunition._

_“Finally,” Yixing said as he grabbed several clips and magazines. Jongdae handed Jongin his own fresh ammo and the three of them looked at each other. Jongdae let off a small smile and began to laugh. Bullets tore up around them and Jongin waited for a pause in the firing before he got up to the lip of the foxhole. He saw the line of German soldiers, distinct thanks to their Stahlhelm helmets, and aimed his M1 Garand. He exhaled and fired. The round connected with a German throat and the spray of fresh blood spilled onto the snow covered ground before the man fell. He fired a few more rounds before he ducked back beneath the lip of the foxhole._

_“Where’s the reinforcements?!” Yixing yelled out to Jongdae and Jongdae looked at him._

_“Apparently they can’t make it until morning!”_

_“Fuck…” Jongin grunted and looked back up to the lip of the foxhole and his eyes went wide when he saw it. A German Tiger Tank. Gunfire had covered up its approach. “Oh…shit…!” he screamed in Korean and saw the barrel of the gun aim downward towards them. “Run!” he shouted and Yixing threw the man over his shoulder. Jongdae burst out as the tracks of the Tiger came crashing up over the lip of the foxhole. Jongin looked up and saw the bottom of the tank rise over him like a whale rising from the waters. As soon as the tank rose above him it began its fast descent. Jongin threw himself forward and the tank landed with a loud crash inside of the foxhole._

When the news broke out over the radio of the attack on Pearl Harbor, nothing was the same. The troubles of daily life suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore. The fervor within the country had become overwhelming. The lines for volunteers to join the fight were lining street corners and blocking traffic. But for Kim Jongin and his small family, they could feel only one thing. Fear. The small community of Asian-Americans they had taken residence within since first arriving in the late 20’s was now being glanced at and scorned privately. Jongin sat in his family home as they saw men in American military uniforms begin to gather together their Japanese neighbors. While Jongin couldn’t help but feel some pity for the families that were taken from their homes his father seemed only to encourage such action.

“Damn Japanese…” his father would mutter when he returned home from work only to then spout his disdain for the Japanese people. It was because of the Japanese invasion of Korea in 1910 that they managed to escape to America and start a new life. Every bone in Jongin’s body wanted to retort how these were not Japanese but Japanese-Americans but he knew better than to question his father. While his mother was often the more soft spoken of the two, he knew her prejudice against the Japanese was equally rooted in memories of times long before Jongin was born. The days turned to weeks after Pearl Harbor and Jongin couldn’t help but notice that the looks from non-Asian citizens became more and more scornful and spitting with disgust. But what these looks could not do was dampen the patriotism that still burned inside of Jongin’s chest. He would walk past the recruitment offices and see the lines of people bursting with passion and excitement to join the fight. The news that came from his family’s old radio would tell of the German Reich and their overwhelming victories across Europe. Now all that seemed to remain was the Isle of Britain and he would hear the voice of Winston Churchill call out, as if he stood among the bombs which dropped around him, and challenged the Germans to try and take the Island. Never had Jongin known such unyielding resistance and perseverance and it often times would leave him with vivid dreams. He would dream of the German U-Boats reaching the shores of the East Coast while the Imperial Japanese Navy would arrive on the Western. German Panzer tanks crashing through the streets of American cities and crashing through American homes. The sight of Adolph Hitler standing before the White House before the Panzer tanks emptied shell after shell into it until nothing remained but fire and ash. Jongin would awake in cold sweats with his bedsheets soaked and his breath caught in his chest. Finally, almost three months after the attack on Pearl Harbor, in a mass gathering, every Japanese-American Family Jongin knew was collected and taken away. It was only after his father presented their papers as Korean-Americans and not Japanese-Americans, as well as much groveling and begging, that the soldiers left their family to their home in their now mostly empty neighborhood. At times Jongin would walk down the street after his workday as a painter and see that he was the only person for miles in any direction. Cars were still in the driveway and equipment for home care was left abandoned where they had been left just minutes before the families were taken.

Finally, Jongin came home one day from a long day at work. It was springtime 1942 and news of the American military swelling with new recruits was all Jongin could think of that entire day. Most of his coworkers had left to join the cause and he found himself with an ever increasing workload thanks to their departure. He came home, removed his shoes and hat, and proceeded to the family room where his mother was setting the table. She’d managed to get a hold of some fresh meat to accompany their kimchi, rice, and soup. He gave his mother a bow and sat down as the table was being prepared.

“Did you work hard?” his mother asked as she kept her eyes on the bowls, spoons, and chopsticks she was setting out.

“Yes,” he answered formally as she finished and stood. He stood as well when his father walked into the room. Without much conversation they sat down at the table and began to eat in silence. The meal was almost over when Jongin finally broke the silence despite understanding the taboo nature of doing so. “Tomorrow I am going to enlist.” He didn’t move when neither of his parents made a move either. He watched and tried to gauge their movements without making eye contact.

“What?” his father finally asked as the sternness in his tone rattled Jongin’s bones to the core.

“Tomorrow,” Jongin said while trying to keep his voice as clear and strong as possible under his father’s gaze, “I will enlist to join the United States Military.” If he hadn’t heard it before, he heard it now. His father’s sharp intake of breath. His mother remained silent.

“When did you think you would ask for my permission?” his father ordered.

“I knew you would not approve so I did not ask.” The bluntness of Jongin’s words surprised even himself. He could feel his father’s rage building.

“You are correct. I do not approve of this. Nor do I approve of this behavior.” Still his mother remained silent.

“I shall leave tomorrow to enlist.” His father stood up sharply and loomed over Jongin. Jongin rose to his feet as well but at a slower pace. His mother remained standing.

“You shall not go,” his father declared. Jongin did his best to keep his composure but his hands were shaking slightly. He almost felt a shiver beneath his work clothes.

“I am sorry. But I shall.” The fist connected with his jaw in a sharp but powerful impact that, had it not been at an awkward table due to his father needing to reach over the kitchen table, would have knocked Jongin to the ground. His father quickly began to walk around the table but Jongin stepped back, his jaw aching, and went for the front door.

“Come back here!” his father roared. His mother made not a single move nor made a single sound. Jongin rushed out the front door and grabbed his shoes before he rushed out into the front lawn. His father stood in the doorway and glared at him as Jongin slipped his shoes on while out in the yard. “Never return,” his father snarled before he slammed the door shut and closed Jongin off from his family home. Without a word, Jongin exhaled and began to walk down the street towards the closest recruitment office.

When he arrived he saw the line was as long as ever. Men stood and talked amongst themselves but he noticed a few look over at him with judging eyes as he took his spot in the back of the line. He stood quietly and ignored their glances until, almost two hours later, he stood in front of a recruiting officer who looked him up and down. The smile that had been on the officer’s face seemed to fade once he noticed the distinct Asian eyes and dark skin complexion.

“Can I help you?” the officer asked, his voice laced with a southern twang.

“I’d like to enlist,” Jongin tried to say as best he could through his thick accent.

“Would you, now…?” the recruitment officer said with a raised eyebrow. He leaned forward to get a better look at Jongin and Jongin looked back. “A bit of a pretty boy to join the military, don’t you think?”

“I am not Japanese,” Jongin put in quickly, “I am Korean-American.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that. You have any documentation?”

“I do not,” Jongin answered, “My father would never allow me to fight.”

“And why not?” Although Jongin knew it was a simple question he could sense the meaning behind it.

“He would never work for the Japanese. My family came here when the Japanese invaded Korea. Many of my family was killed. My sister was one of them.” The recruitment officer looked at him with a slight bit more humanity. “Whatever I can do for my country, I will do happily.” The officer looked at him for a few silent moments and then leaned back in his seat.

“You will be subjected to a medical examination and speak to a counselor regarding your responsibilities. Can you read and write English?”

“Yes.”

“Well then,” he said and slid the sheet to fill out his basic information to him. “Good luck.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Move it, Kim!” came the shout of Sergeant Sorel. Jongin grunted as he crawled through the thick mud which had long since soaked through his training uniform and made it stick to him like a second skin. The feeling of barbed wire above his head was a constant threat and he was constantly confronted with the choice of either dipping his mouth beneath the disgusting wet mud or raise it head and risk the barbed wire tearing his hair. He chose the mud. Jongin was halfway across the pit when he felt the machine guns fire off overhead. The first time it had frightened him and caught him off guard. This time he tried to ignore it. “Go go go!” Sergeant Sorel called out and Jongin could feel the others around him gasping and grunting as much as he was. The continuous thundering of the ballistics above him hit him over and over in the chest until he reached the end and crawled out with a loud grunt onto the hard packed earth of the Camp Roberts training field. The wet mud that soaked Jongin was soon covered in a layer of dry dust and began to crack as he stood up and waited for the others to finish. A 19 year old from Wyoming, named Jake Douglas, was the next to finish. He was a country boy with a strong frame for all 5’5 and 135 lbs it was worth. Jake crawled out and panted to catch his breath but kept his distance from Jongin. Most of the other men did. Pearl Harbor was still fresh in most people’s minds and the sight of an Asian man in their training group didn’t seem to dampen any animosity. Most of the men Jongin was training with were country men with plenty of the muscle and strength that seemed to accompany the symbol of American soldiers but Jongin was a bit different. He was thinner and leaner but he was taller than almost half of the men in his group. At just shy of 6 feet tall, Jongin was one of the taller men in the group and he couldn’t help but notice that this caught his training mates off guard.

_“Tall for a Jap,” said a particularly antagonistic New Yorker named Bill Enwright._

_“I am Korean-American,” Jongin responded as he finished packing his footlocker._

_“Lookie here, boys, we got us a ‘Koreeahn American.” Jongin closed his eyes and sighed before he stood up and turned around to look at Bill Enwright. He was almost a half foot taller than the New Yorker but he figured Bill had almost thirty pounds on him. “We got no rice for ya here,” Bill said and Jongin remained silent as he looked down at him. The tenseness in the air had everyone looking at the two of them but after almost a minute Bill took a step back and went back to his bunk. Jongin took a look around and saw that everyone else seemed to smirk slightly at Enwright’s comments and went on to proceed with their own conversations amongst themselves. He turned and began to make his bunk._

The heat of the sun was bearing down on all of them when they presented themselves to their Sergeant Sorel. Just as the men were preparing for the next batch of breath stealing stomach churning training when what appeared to be a Lieutenant Colonel arrived with someone next to him. Jongin looked over to see something he hadn’t expecting. Another Asian. This one had slightly droopy eyes and a gentle face but his body seemed strong and agile. The Lieutenant Colonel spoke with their instructor privately while the new face presented himself at attention. After an additional minute for a breather, Sergeant Sorel, turned to them as the Lieutenant Colonel departed after an exchange of salutes.

“Listen up,” Sergeant Sorel called out as he stood before he tired exhausted trainees. “It seems we have someone who thought to join our little group. This is Jang Yicksing.” Jongin looked at this Jang Yicksing. Jongin knew his people looked young but even he figured this Yicksing couldn’t be more than 17. Likely lied about his age. His somewhat droopy eyes didn’t move from their forward facing direction and Sergeant Sorel turned to look at him before he turned to Jongin. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a friend, Kim. Yicksing, next to Kim.”

“Yes, sir,” Yicksing called out. Some of the men laughed. His voice was soft. Gentle. Yicksing, who was already wearing the physical training gear (white t-shirt and short shorts) that everyone else had on but he stood out as easily as Jongin. They stood together while Sergeant Sorel looked all of them over. “Yicksing, looks like you’re a little too clean to go with the rest of the group. So, while you finish up the course that these men just finished, they will do pushups until you reach them.” Immediately the eyes shifted to Yicksing. Hatred. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Yicksing called out, the twang of a heavy accent on each of the two words. Jongin could almost hear the chuckles that the other men were pushing down into their throats. Sorel pointed to the start of the course and Yicksing began to run towards it. “Now start!” Sergeant Sorel called out. All of the men fell to their hands and knees before they set up and began to push out pushups. Jongin was among them. The mud on his aching arms had already dried out and begun to flake off like a snake shed his skin. Any moisture that may have remained in the mud was sucked up by the dry earth beneath him. The dirt didn’t only drink up the moisture from the mud but the water from his sweat as he and his fellow trainees continued to do pushup after pushup. A second Sergeant watched them as Sergeant Sorel seemingly left to yell Yicksing through the course. The ache in his arms screamed with every new pushup he gave. The gasps that choked out of everyone’s throats as the time slogged on while they waited for the miserable minutes to pass. After what felt like just shy an eternity, the sound of shoes on dirt joined the chorus of their gasps.

“On your feet,” they heard Sergeant Sorel bark out. With numb arms, Jongin got to his feet and his body was soaked through with a disgusting sludge of mud and sweat which seemed to cling to him like a slimy second skin. Indeed the one called Jang Yicksing was standing at attention. He was covered in mud and a cut seemed to have been made on his left arm on the bicep just above the elbow. A small trickle of blood had formed a trail down his forearm and had formed at the tip of his middle finger before it would fall to the ground in small droplets. The dry dirt drank the blood as eagerly as it did their sweat. “As you can see, Yicksing here apparently can’t keep his arms tight when he’s pulling himself out from the pit. Let’s hope he picks things up quickly or you all are going to find yourselves lacking a medic,” Sorel said to them with deathly seriousness in his tone. He looked at Yicksing before he turned back to his men and Jongin felt Sorel’s eyes burning into him. “Thanks to Yicksing’s injury, we are done for the day. Everyone shower up and get ready for lectures. Kim, you take Jang here to get that cut tended before you do the same.” Everyone saluted and quickly began to proceed to the showers. Jongin approached Yicksing and was about to speak when Sorel walked up to Yicksing. “Except you. Once that wound is tended you will come back here and catch you up on the day’s exercise.”

“Yes, sir,” Yicksing’s responded as clearly as he could with his heavy accent. Sorel nodded and glared at the two of them before he turned and departed. Jongin put a hand on Yicksing’s shoulder. “What’s your real name?” he asked.

“Zhang Yixing,” the one called Yicksing said in a voice that he swore sounded slightly childish.

“Chinese?” Jongin asked. Yixing nodded. Something deep inside Jongin’s chest seemed to tighten out of reflex and immediately he pushed the feeling away. The words that rose in his head were quickly pushed down by him offering a smile and directing Yixing to the medical tent. “You’re supposed to be a medic.”

“Yes,” Yixing said, “I just want to help.”

“I’m Kim Jongin.”

“Korean?” Jongin nodded. A small smile spread across Yixing’s face. “My parents would probably tell me to kill you in your sleep.” At first Jongin felt the tightness in his chest flare up once again and they looked at each other in silence for a few moments before they both began to smile and then began to laugh. Yixing’s laugh was quiet, just like the rest of him, but genuine.

“Mine too,” Jongin said as he tried to control himself. He saw a few white soldiers looking at them as they laughed and walked but for the time being he didn’t care. He was just happy to have someone he could talk to. The time of silence between being kicked out of home and this very day had done a number on Jongin’s mood and even such a coarse and impolite joke was like a glass of water in a hot desert. They moved to the medical tent and when the nurse saw the wound she went to grab the necessary bandages and alcohol. When the nurse was out of earshot Jongin leaned close to Yixing. “Sorel’s a tough one but just keep strong.” Yixing nodded and Jongin pat him on the shoulder before he departed for the showers.

As he stripped and entered the showers he saw that a few of the fellow trainees were finishing up. Just as he turned the knob and ducked his head under the water he heard their feet come up behind him. For as long as he could manage, Jongin tried to ignore them but when a hand clapped firmly onto his shoulder he turned and wiped the water from his eyes.

“You getting friendly with the new nip?” It was Enwright.

“He’s not a nip,” Jongin responded but Enwright gave a firm shove to Jongin’s chest. “He’s not Japanese. He’s Chinese.” The tightness in Yixing’s chest from earlier began to bubble inside him as Enwright glared at him.

“Then he’s a chink. Don’t think about starting anything or we’ll have you locked up before you can say banzai.” The tightness finally snapped and Jongin felt a rage fill him. He grabbed Enwright by the throat.

“I’m not…fucking Japanese!” he screamed and slammed his fist into Enwright’s face. The move was so unexpected from the typically mild and reserved Jongin that none of Enwright’s three friends made a move to prevent it. Enwright himself stumbled back and felt his jaw. Jongin’s eyes flared as he looked at them. “My family came here to escape the Japanese invasion. We’ve heard of Korean women being taken by the Japanese and used in military sex camps for when they get tired of killing and raping everyone else,” Jongin snarled, “Don’t you ever compare me to one of those ‘wae-nom’ ever again or you’ll see what happens when fight a Korean.” Nothing but the sound of the showers resonated in the room. He waited for the return punch. None came. Enwright and the others looked at him for a few brief moments as he stood his ground. The water that still fell over Jongin’s body almost gave him a chill in contrast to the immense heat that was roiling inside him. After almost a full minute, Enwright and the others turned and departed, leaving Jongin alone in the showers. He did his best to regain control of his heavy breathing and calm down as he punched the wall and closed his eyes as the water fell over his scalp and face.


	3. Chapter 3

Early in the morning, Jongin lay in his bunk while his fellow trainees snored gently around him. He looked over at the bunk next to him and saw Yixing’s gently rising chest as he snored himself. A small exhalation of air managed to calm Jongin’s breathing as he looked back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep but the memories of his life back home, before enlisting just swam in his mind as relentlessly as a rolling river.

_He sat on at the dinner table with his parents when they heard a firm knock on the door. His father and mother exchanged a quick look before his father stood up and smoothed out his clothes. Jongin himself simply stared at his bowl of rice. They’d been expecting this._

His eyes open once more as he sits up and rubs his face with his hands and yawns silently. He ached all over and his eyelids were heavy but sleep simply refused to come. The stress and fear was building up inside him and he was without any of his mother’s homemade Makgeolli to calm him. It had been months since he’d had a drink and since it didn’t seem like Sergeant Sorel was going to grant him a weekend pass any time soon. Even if he was allowed his pass along with the other men he was pretty sure there wasn’t a bar within a thousand miles that would serve him. So he rolled onto his side, his head pressed against the hard and lumpy pillow as he closed his eyes once more and tried to sleep.

_“We are not Japanese. We are Korean,” his father tried to say through his thick accent but the brash young soldiers at their door didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Jongin himself was still learning but he managed to make out the words “Enemy Alien”. His father was trying to speak but the soldiers didn’t seem at all interested as they said something in the monotonous tone of obvious repetition before shoving a paper into his father’s chest and turning to leave. Jongin’s father closed the door softly, as he always did when whites were around, and looked at the paper. He watched as his father shuffled back into the room, every ounce of pride shorn from his body like a stripped piece of wood. His mother quickly poured him a glass of maekgeolli from the pot in the kitchen but he simply stared at it while his hand held onto the wrinkled piece of paper. “We are registered as Enemy Aliens,” his father finally said, all strength seemingly drained from his voice and aura. Neither Jongin nor his mother spoke. They dare not speak lest the fury that could not be aimed at the whites be aimed at them instead._

Jongin suddenly awoke to the sound of Sergeant Sorel storming into their barracks and yelling for everyone to get up and get ready for the morning drills. His body ached but he forced himself to get up as he saw Yixing do the same in the adjacent bunk.

“Move it, Kim!” Sorel shouts as Jongin struggles into his PT gear while still waking up. “You too, Yicksing!”

“Yes, sir,” Yixing responded through his accent and slipped into his PT gear with a shocking efficiency despite his eyes barely being open.

They ran in the rain, the dirt paths long since turned to mud, and their shoes were soaked through to the bone. Mud was spattered up their shins and almost beyond their knees as the nine mile run was only halfway completed so far. Jongin gasped as he tried to maintain his spot in the front line of runners but he could feel his body starting to give out as he began to fall behind. Yixing remained strong at the front of the line as Jongin felt his fellow trainees run past him. His legs became weak and wobbly when he saw Yixing look around and then back to him. Jongin wheezed as he tried to keep up but watched as Yixing slowed down until he was next to him and he helped him stand straight and find a new rhythm. When they returned to the training ground, Jongin and Yixing were towards the back but Yixing never wavered from his side.

When Jongin first heard of the Allies invading the island of Sicily, he and Yixing were crowded around a lone radio in the mess hall with their fellow recruits. They all waited with bated breath and a loud cheer burst from the group when word of the success of the initial amphibious and airborne attacks achived a grip on the Sicilian coast. Such elation took hold over them all that Jongin found numerous arms slung around his shoulder and not only Yixing’s. It was the first time since he arrived that he felt a sense of comradery with his fellow recruits. It was also the first time that he noticed the drill instructors and other soldiers let them express their elation so openly. It wasn’t until they all hushed to try and hear the following reports that Jongin noticed that the soldiers were crowded around as well. For just a few minutes he forgot the pains, aches, and anxiety of where he was and celebrated with the men he was planning to walk into hell with. The excitement was short lived, however, as soon they were rushed back to the training grounds for drills and training.

Two days after the initial news of the Sicilian Invasion, Jongin was in the prone position and practicing with his M1 Garand along with Yixing and the other recruits when he saw an officer approach Sergeant Sorel with yet another gentle faced soldier with him. It was clear the men wanted to see what was going on but the frown that spread across Sorel’s face made even Jongin keep his eyes focused on the targets. Over the sound of gunfire and the all too familiar ping of the Garand ejecting a spent clip, he heard what seemed to be great frustration in Sorel’s muffled words. When the clips were empty, the line of recruits safely put their guns down and stood at attention. Jongin finally got a good look at the new recruit and saw the all too familiar eyes of a fellow Asian-American.

“Get in line,” Sorel said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Jongdae said with an accent even heavier than Yixing’s before he hustled over to the closest spot next to Yixing.

“Welcome our newest…recruit…Jong Day Kim.” Jongin felt his eyes widen slightly. Definitely a Korean name. All of the recruits look at Jong Day and he gives a smile. Jongin wanted to laugh. He could feel the infuriation those smiling lips were giving every man in that line aside from himself and Yixing. He was even more boyish looking than either of them and his lips seemed to naturally curl up into a smile that remained even after Jong Day ceased to do so. “Since we need to get Jong Day up to speed, it’s time to run the course. Everyone into your PT gear!” Jongin felt bad as Jong Day realized that every man in the group he’d just joined was now glaring at him with fire in their eyes. His natural beaming face seemed to sink a bit as they all headed to the barracks to change. Jongin saw that Jong Day had been given the bed on the other side of him. The three of them lumped together in the back of the barracks, like an embarrassment that needed to be hidden away. While he saw the slump that had formed in Jong Day’s form, he gave a gentle pat on the shoulder while everyone got into their training gear.

“I’m Jongin,” he whispered in Korean. Jong Day looked at him as Jongin removed his shirt and the smile returned a little bit.

“Jongdae,” he said and they quickly shook hands. Yixing removed the buckle of his pants as he reached over Jongin’s bed and shook Jongdae’s hand as well. The others were glaring at them but no one spoke. It seemed even their fellow recruits couldn’t maintain such persistent discrimination when they were too tired to even take showers. No further words were possible as they were soon out running the muddy trails of the forest. Where Yixing was persistent in his running, Jongdae was quick. His smaller frame and shorter height had him leading the pack with ease. Jongin continued to push himself to make sure he joined Jongdae and Yixing at the front, and thanks to Yixing being there to push him, he found the strength inside to do so. By the time they reached back to the camp it was Jongin, Yixing, and Jongdae that led the group. They were sweaty, covered in mud, and gasping for air but they were the first back.

Jongin picked at his tray of dinner while Yixing and Jongdae sat down across from him. They never had to worry about finding a seat in the mess hall thanks to no one ever sharing a table with them. The scent of the chow line was something that Jongin never thought he’d be able to get over or accept. The ground beef with gravy and mashed potatoes was as bland as anything he’d ever tasted. The only salt he could taste came in the canned vegetables that came with it.

“Make you wish for home?” Jongdae asked. Jongin realized that this was the first time he’d heard someone speak Korean since he left home. He looked up to see that Yixing was looking at Jongdae as well, his fork dripping with the cheap potato mash.

“I could really use some rice beer, honestly,” Jongin said and Jongdae’s smile returned to his lips. “You are a Kim as well?” Jongdae nodded as he pushed some of the cheap ground beef steak into his mouth.

“Sergeant Sorel is calling me Dave because he doesn’t like my name.” Yixing let out a small laugh.

“When did you sign up?” Yixing asked in his heavily accented English. Yixing rarely spoke but whenever he did it only further expressed his gentle nature; even more so when he spoke English instead of his native Chinese.

“I signed up a few weeks ago and was shuffled from unit to unit until they seemed to throw me here. Seeing you guys I could see why.”

“Yeah, they don’t like us very much,” Jongin admitted but he couldn’t help but feel a bit more comfortable now that he had some company. “They’re going to put us through hell since we only have a few more weeks until basic is technically over.”

“I wouldn’t doubt if they kept us here for a long time,” Yixing admitted as he picked at his food with frustration.

“Sorry,” Jongdae said with a hint of genuine sadness in his tone.

“Don’t be,” Yixing said before he took a mouthful of food and swallowed. “If there’s one thing we can be certain of, it’s that they’ll be sending us together.”

“Well…that makes me feel a bit better,” Jongdae admits and Jongin smiles. Jongdae smiles back at him and then turns his eyes down to his own plate. “Do we really have to eat everything on the plate?” Jongin nodded with a sigh.

“Every bite or you can’t leave. Something about building muscle.” A few brief moments of silence prevailed as Jongdae looked down at his own small lean frame and then to Jongin and Yixing’s more toned and muscular ones. He began to laugh and tried to stifle it as a few higher pitched chuckles brought the other recruits’ eyes to their table.

The weeks had passed and Jongin was a mixture of relief and anxiety as their basic training had reached its end. The physical exertion that their bodies had been put under thanks to the late arrival of Jongdae definitely set them apart from their fellow recruits but it only forged the bond between the three Asian-Americans to an even stronger degree. However, while it was all but done for Jongin and Jongdae, Yixing was undergoing the rigorous chaos of his medic training which involved 9 hours of classes and brutal tests of knowledge. Once Yixing was done and acquired his medic status, they waited anxiously to join their fellow recruits for deployment, they soon found themselves alone in the barracks. It wasn’t until more new recruits came in a week later that they realized just what was going on. So they started over. The same classes, the same drills, the same punishing routine. However, as the weeks had turned into months, each new batch of recruits seemed to grow less and less up for showing their aggression. The relentless training and refusal of every weekend passed they’d requested had honed their bodies in a way that was relatively unknown to most men who came through. Jongin and Yixing had sharp tone and a bit of volume to their muscles while even the formerly scrawny Jongdae now had enough definition to put most of the bulkier recruits that came in. They soon were at the front of every march and finished the courses with an ever increasing ease, leaving all in the mud behind them. Sergeant Sorel soon gave up on trying to embarrass them as the results were far too obvious for even him to try and degrade. Throughout all of this, they continued to listen in on the radio about the campaign in Italy and North Africa. Christmas came and went. The winter was spent with even more new recruits and them continuing to be the veterans of basic. It was then, one day, when the latest batch of recruits had graduated and the three of them felt they were going to spend the whole war in that barracks and running the same trails that Sergeant Sorel came to the three of them in the empty mess hall where they were cleaning. They quickly stood at attention as Sorel looked at them. 

“You boys eating well?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” all three answered in unison. He looked at them and nodded.

“You boys have been here a long time. Almost a year for you, Kim.” Jongin remained at attention. Sorel let out a small sigh. “You guys will be deploying with this group.” It was clear that none of the three could hide the widening of their eyes in surprise. “I don’t know what’s going on but you guys are headed to England. From what I’ve heard, something big is being planned.” The three were speechless as he looked at them with eyes that almost seemed to show respect. “I’m giving the three of you weekend passes. You deploy next Wednesday. Be ready.”

“Yes, sir!” the three of them shout together, the excitement and relief clear on their words. He gives a small salute to them before he turns and heads out of the mess hall. Once Sorel was gone they looked at each other and wide smiles spread across their faces. They jumped in the air and embraced with all of their self-discipline going to prevent any cheers for joy.


	4. Chapter 3.5

The jeep rattled along the dirt road as Jongin looked out over the vast empty fields which surrounded their training camp. He’d become almost as resistant to the staring eyes of the British natives as he had become fluent in understanding their heavy accents and manners of speech. The driver of the jeep, a seventeen year old Manchester native named Jack Shell, had been kind enough to Jongin, Yixing, and Jongdae when they first arrived in England. Their units often interacted with the British troops that were stationed in the area and Jack had proven to be a good friend to the three racial outcasts. Jack had lied about his age to be conscripted into the army and this gave the four soldiers something to bond over. Jack frequently delivered messages around the camps to HQ and delivered the mail so whenever they needed a ride Jack would let them on. Word had been spreading about something big in the very near future and Jongin could tell just in the drills alone. The frequency of their exercises and weapon training had increased exponentially in the last few weeks with very little free time allowed to them. While they worked well within their unit, it was clear that Jongin, Yixing, and Jongdae weren’t exactly part of the group in terms of friendliness. Some of them were kind enough but not many were asking them to play cards or have a chat. The only time where they were able to shine was at the pub. Before the drills and exercises had increased there was a lot of downtime for the Americans and they often found themselves filling the pubs of London and all sorts of surrounding towns. This was where specifically Jongin and Jongdae found themselves king as they frequently drank their fellow Americans and even a collection of the British under the table. The light English beers barely had any effect on the rice wine consuming Korean boys. It wasn’t until the usually impressed barmen would break out a bottle of gin that the floor began to spin for them. Their reputation for drinking earned them the respect of some of the locals and they found company with the Brits.

Jongin was shaken from his hangover induced trance and he groaned as he rubbed his forehead.

“Jack…watch the road…” he moaned as he tried to ignore the dull pounding at the base of his skull. Jack and Yixing laughed while Jongdae, who was nursing his own terrible hangover, agreed with Jongin. Yixing rarely indulged in the drinks at the bar but he always accompanied them with a mostly untouched ale in his hands and, as such, was thoroughly enjoying the early morning drive back to camp.

“Why do we keep doing this?” Jongdae asked in Korean as he let out a pained whimper. “The girls won’t sleep with us.”

“You’re the only one who buys them drinks, Dae,” Jongin responded in their mother tongue before he looked over at Jack. Jack had a wide smile on his face all morning which only confirmed the results of his leaving with a young woman shortly before the three of them passed out in the car. Jongin would have inquired for details but another harsh bump in the road made his head throb relentlessly. “Oh, fuck…” Jongin muttered and put his head back into his hand. The rest of the drive to camp went in relative silence. It wasn’t until they arrived that they realized it was time for yet another long day of drills and exercises. With pounding heads and roiling stomachs, Jongin and Jongdae slipped out of the jeep and proceeded to the camp with Yixing while Jack drove off.

It was later that night where Jongin, Yixing, and Jongdae first heard the plans for the invasion. They and their entire unit were told by their Sergeant, a Sergeant George Gibson, of all the necessities. The initially excited tone soon dipped into choked and then finally into a dark foreboding as the information of Nazi formations and preparation was given to them. This would be the largest invasion in recorded history and they would be among the first to be sent in. The briefing was overall short but they were each given the information and told to memorize it from every possible angle. By the time they lay down in their cots that night, not a single man spoke a word or offered up a game of cards. Jongin had a feeling he wasn’t the only one unable to find a wink of sleep that evening.

(Short but more is coming in the next day or two)


End file.
